


Home at Last

by StarredDemation



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Feels, Hugs, I made up a backstory for Dwight, OCs - Freeform, free Dwight, idk what direction this will go, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-07-11 14:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarredDemation/pseuds/StarredDemation
Summary: Dwight somehow escapes from the Entity and it’s realm and was transported back to the forest he was taken from two years ago. He must now live his life with the things that he's seen but others want to know why he was gone.(After reading Dwight's bio I was so sorry for him that I just had to write him a second chance. He's a precious baby boy.)





	1. Free

There was the blissful feeling of nothingness then all at once something.

A rush of pain surged through his whole body as he forcefully scrunched up his eyes. Every muscle was screaming in agony contorting the young man's face in various ways. The pain then centralized to his head as he began to scratch and press against his skull. Perhaps if he dug hard enough he'd rip out the problem or he'd crush his head. Each would otherwise solve his predicament. His brain pulsed and throbbed representing a very extreme migraine. Burying his hands in his hair he dug his nails in and tried to pull his skin apart with no success. He barley had the strength to lift his arms through all of the pain let alone rip himself in half. His body writhed with agony in hopes of flinging the misery away.

As if his prayers were answered his suffering suddenly halted. Taking care to regain his breathing after such an attack he relaxed and felt the steady rise and fall of his chest. Slowly he began to pry his eyes open. Bright light flooded into his vision, blinding him. After his eyes adjusted he opened them fully and took in the view.

Dwight stared up at the canopy of pines and maples that attempted to shield him from the harsh sun. He...was in a forest?

Spreading his arms he dug his fingers into the dirt, feeling the texture of the coarse ground. He brought his hands up to his face and observed the soil under his fingernails. The cheery sunlight peeked from behind his fingertips giving them a light pink glow. A full smile slowly traveled across his face at his revelation. He escaped. He was free.

Sitting up he took in the layout of the nature around him. He was in a small clearing surrounded by large trees that towered high above his head. Below the branches sheltered a mixture of both wild flowers and small bushes. The greenery littered the rich soil only giving way to small paths where the creatures of the forest would travel through. Dwight had seen nothing but trees for the past two years and to be honest he was getting quite sick of it. The only upside was that for once the forest wasn't horribly menacing and cloaked in fog.

Still clothed in his grimy office shirt, tie, and slacks as well as his dirt rimmed glasses, he stood up staggering a bit as he did so. The clam quiet of the woods was sliced through when a gurgle split the air like a knife. At that moment Dwight realize the harsh reality of his situation. Yes he was free but he was also alone in the middle of a forest without any source of food.

Groaning at the thought of what he was about to do the young man picked a random direction and lurched his way onward. His goal; reach some kind of civilization or at least something to eat.

For every minute he walked his hunger grew a tiny bit more. Every step he took brought more and more of the same trees into view. The bright noon sun had arch its way across the sky and was beginning to boarder on the line of becoming a sunset. As the sky's brightness dimmed so did his hope of survival for if night fell not only would he lose his guiding light but his will to move on. The darkness brought along horrible memories that he wished to keep at bay.

Fearing that if left in the cold darkness he would surely break down and go mad, Dwight quickened his pace to the best of his abilities in an attempt to escape from the clutches of evil. Finally a thick maple tree came into view bearing a rough outline of a rectangle. Upon further inspection he discovered that the object was a wooden sign with an arrow pointing toward a distant path amongst the underbrush. Burned into the wood was the label 'Pine Grove Trail'.

Pine Grove Trail? Why did that sound so familiar? Oh...now he remembered. That was the trail he took with his coworkers on their way to the 'team building exercise'. The day before his Hell began. He hated that trail but perhaps today it would be his saviour rather than his downfall.

Briskly he walked along the winding path, vegetation threatening to re cover due to disuse. With quick feet he avoided thick roots and scattered rocks until the twinkling lights of a civilization could be seen past the large wooden trunks.

Hope filled him as he finally reached the end, dirt path turning into pavement. The parking lot for the Pine Grove Trail was littered with large cracks and missing asphalt patches. Bunches of grass and weeds hungrily occupied these spaces of disrepair.

The lot was a couples miles out from the town of Ransslin, where Dwight lived and worked at his dead end job. He needed to make it there, to find shelter, anything to get away from the impending darkness and memories. But he wouldn't have his tiny apartment anymore, would he? What possible other shelter did he have that actually had a light source and didn't involve sleeping in an alley or anything like that? Well...actually he did have one other option.

~

Dwight approached the driveway of a grayish blue house numbered '5208'. The pristine pave of the black driveway was barely visible in the newly arrived moonlight. The abode was the second from the intersecting corner of Burrowsby Street and Highland Avenue (being located on Burrowsby St.).

As he slowly advanced to the door the porch light flicked on making the young man jump yet no motion was seen through the large front window. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the fact that he jumped at a motion sensor and stopped at the front door.

Taking a deep breath he rang the doorbell and waited. For a long moment nothing happened so Dwight pressed the bell again holding it for a while.

A light flicked on in one the upstairs windows followed by some shifting and what sounded like 'damn stupid kids.' The hall beyond the door was illuminated as a blurred figure approached the frosted glass of the door. With quite a bit of force the object separating them was thrown away and an angry looking woman was standing in the doorway. Her face immediately changed when she saw who it was.

In a shaky voice Dwight uttered the words that he knew would cause him grief.

"Hey, mom."


	2. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very suprised at the amount of responses that I got from chapter 1. I thought that this story would go nowhere because for once it isn't a ship with some random character (I'm not giving shit. I read some of those stories). I'm letting you guys know now that I have the slightest idea of where I want this to go but other that that I write whatever comes to me. Anyway enjoy the longer chapter.

"Dwight..."

The name was breathlessly uttered from her lips barley above a quiet whisper.

Mrs. Fairfield just stood their starring at her son as though she could not believe that any of this was real, that it was just another dream. In front of her was her baby boy, still wearing the same dirtied clothes that he had on when he went missing all those years ago. His messy hair drew little attention away from the various bruises and cuts taking over his precious face. The porch light shone over his rough features revealing that she was not the only one on the verge of tears. The illumination somehow made him look even worse.

In one quick swoop she was clutching her son in her arms, afraid that if she let go he would disappear again. Trying to hold back her tears she buried herself in his hair ignoring the smell. Large heaving sobs shook her body but after some time she realized that they were not her own but her child's. No matter what age her son may be she would always care for him and hearing the pain in his cries hurt her on a whole other level.

"Sherry?! What's happening? Are you alright?"

Large thunderous steps entered the foyer but paused as they spotted the scene laid out before them in the doorway. From his angle Mr. Fairfield saw his wife shaking, supposedly crying, as she held something in her arms. Furious at the fact that the 'ding dong ditchers' had made his wife weep he stomped up behind her and demanded that she tell him what has happened. Grabbing her gently by the shoulder he turned her around. Staggering in still holding an iron grip on his mom was Dwight attempting to hide his face behind his mother's head.

"He's home." Mrs. Fairfield choked out as she stroked Dwight's back in a comforting manner. "He's finally home."

Now Keith Fairfield wasn't very good with understanding his own emotions let alone comforting others when their's went awry. He often found it difficult but seeing his family in pain like that he knew exactly what to do.

Wrapping his arms around both family members he held them in a tight grip and rubbed circles into the back of his son's neck with his thumb. Even if Dwight wouldn't dare to show his feelings to his dad he had to let him know that he was there for him in some way.

After quickly sneaking out to close the door and returning the Fairfields all stood in their foyer hugging each other till their son calmed down and finally stopped wheezing.

Taking her son's tear stained face in her hands she brought it up to face her. Running her thumb over a bruise Sherry stopped as she saw the young man's face scrunch up in pain.

"Sorry. Dwight...oh my God. We missed you so much." She paused to let out a shaky breath. "We...we thought you were gone."

She placed her forehead against his as she began to cry again while Dwight avoided eye contact by staring at the floor. The middle aged woman pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You're hurt, Honey, I know that but are you okay?"

Dwight continued to stare at the floor as he muttered his reply.

"I'm...I'm fine, Mom."

Chiming in his dad sighed. "Dwight, would you please look at us?"

Lifting his eyes from the floor he looked at his parents in front of him, fear and agony evident in his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably in his worn office shoes under the worried glances of his parents. He just wanted this to be over, to fall asleep and never wake up. He knew this was going to be hard but the looks that he was getting from his parents were even worse. He didn't want them to see him like this, they were already embarrassed enough by him.

Sensing the tension between them Sherry interjected by changing the subject.

"Umm...Honey, why...why don't you clean yourself up. You know where the bathroom is and you left a couple of your clothes here when you moved out. They should be in the closet of the spare room; your old room."

Shifting his eyes back down to the carpeted hardwood floor he rubbed his arm.

"Thanks." With that Dwight sidestepped his dad and hurried up the stairs to the spare room.

His parents stood there in their pyjamas looking at each other until Sherry broke the silence.

"Our son is back, Keith. They said he was dead! That there was no way he could survive for that long." She collapsed into the tall man's chest, holding on around his waist. "But he's alive." Letting out a small laugh a smile spread across her face.

Keith began to stroke her hair, the rumble of his chest as he talked giving Sherry a tiny bit of comfort. "They never did find the body. Or any traces of him for that matter."

"Two years. He'd managed to survive for two years and make it back to us." She raised her head to look him in the eyes her face filled with worry. "What did he go through? Was he really lost for all that time? Did someone take him? Or-"

"Sherry!" Mr. Fairfield interrupted her rambling. "It's okay. He's with us now." His arms wrapped around her and he began to rock from side to side, soothing her.

"You're right. We can ask him tomorrow when he's feeling better. My baby looks like he's been through hell and back."

Keith slowly nodded his head but spoke up as he hit a revelation. "Hey, it's..." He glanced at a clock." 11ish and I don't think we're going back to bed anytime soon. How about some tv?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."

Taking his wife by the hand Mr. Fairfield led her down the main hall and into the neighbouring family room.

~

Having retrieved his clothes from the top of his old room's closet Dwight headed towards the glowing bathroom. Flicking the light on he entered and locked the door behind him. He knew his parents wouldn't disturb him but the security helped to ease his paranoia. Placing the clean clothes on the counter he began to undress.

He slipped off his dirty shoes and smelly socks and started a pile in the far corner of the room. Unknotting his tie gave him some issues but once that was loose they joined the others in the corner. One by one the articles came off until the final piece was thrown in, completing the filthy pile of dirt covered clothes.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose he looked at himself in the mirror. Nearly every spot of Dwight was covered in smudges of dirt, bruises, or wounds, the worst being around his face and forearms. What drew the most attention was the angry pink scar near his left shoulder that looked like someone just stabbed a sword through him which wasn't far off from the truth. The longer he stared the stronger the memories washed into his head until eventually he just couldn't take it. Placing his glasses next to his clean clothes he stepped into the shower.

Cranking it up to hot the young man revelled in the feeling as the first drops hit his chest. After not having a shower in 2 years the water felt heavenly. He just wanted to stay in here and not face the horrors of his mind or the judging glares of his parents. Dwight just wanted to remain in there in complete bliss.

Bowing his he watched as the water flowed over his hair and into the drain, stained in red and brown hues. All of the grime was going to take awhile to wash off but the pain would take even longer. Grabbing the bar of soap he began the painstakingly long goal of ridding his body of the blood and dirt.

After his task of not only washing his body but his hair as well, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a lavender coloured towel from the rack. He gently dried himself off being especially careful around the large pink scar. Placing the towel back on the rack he grabbed the clean clothes and got dressed then added the finishing touch, his glasses.

Just before placing the frame back onto his face he stopped and noticed the dirt caking the entire thing. Giving a groan he placed them back down and opened the mirror. Sure enough just as he remembered it was a bottle of glass cleaner and a rag sitting on one of the shelves. In all his years living in the house being the only one with glasses his mom always managed to have a bottle for him in the medicine cabinet. After a good clean he returned his glasses to their rightful spot and gave himself one final glance in the mirror. His shirt thankful covered up his ugly looking scar but left his face and arms visible. He still looked like trash but at least he wasn't gross.

Leaving his vile clothes in the bathroom he turned the light off and headed down the stairs.

~

After about one very comfy episode on their large couch the couple heard light footfalls coming down the stairs and then nothing. Leaning over to her husband she talked in a low whisper.

"He must be done."

Raising her voice so the footsteps could hear she called over. "Dwight, Honey, we're in here."

The foot steps continued until they hit the entrance to the family room. Craning her neck to look at the doorway she waved him over.

"Come on. Right here." She patted the couch cushion next to her as she scooted over a bit.

With slow weary steps he made his way over to the couch and sat up straight. Having real human communication after 2 years kinda makes a guy on edge.

Sherry frowned as she looked over his posture. Sitting stiff as a board in a faded Batman t-shirt and gray sweatpants was her son. Not wanting him to act that way she grabbed his far shoulder and pulled him close in a comforting snuggle. He jumped at the first initial contact but otherwise was fine. His mom gave a small smile at the fresh scent Dwight gave off, happy that the old odorous smell was long gone. His damp hair brushed her cheek as he settled his head on her shoulder. Keith had stayed quiet but smiled in approval. He never really understood his son but at least he had Sherry who did.

They all stayed like that on the couch for about two more episodes without a single peep from Dwight.

"Keith."

"Yes."

"I think he's asleep"

Resting on his mom was a sleepy Dwight quietly breathing with his head still lolled on her shoulder.

"Well come on then. Let's get to bed. Leave him here so we don't disturb him." Slowly he sat up from the couch as to not make a noise.

Mrs. Fairfield just started to move her son when he gave off a panicked yelp and shot up straight. His head jerked from side to side, panic and confusion plastered on his face.

"Dwight. Dwight! It's okay! It's okay." Grabbing his hands she looked him in the eyes, reassuring him that this was real. "You're here with us. It's okay. I didn't mean to scare you." Her voice and gesture somewhat calmed him, his head looking once again at the floor.

"Sorry...My bad." He played with his thumbs as he spoke his reply.

"Your father and I are going to head up to bed. Would you like to stay down here or come with us?"

"Could I...could I come upstairs?"

Reaching for the remote she answered in a quite tone afraid that he might shatter if she went any higher. "Of course you can. You can use the spare room."

Before she could shut down the only remaining light in the room Dwight scurried off of the couch nearly running into his dad in the lit up doorway. Keith gave a little pat on his back, the young man freezing up at his touch. Though he didn't have the best relationship with his son it still hurt him to see him react the way he did.

With a click the tv shut down and the couple climbed the stairs, Dwight tailing close behind. Keith headed into the bedroom first but Sherry turned around to give one final glance at her son. He just stood there in the dim light of the upstairs hallway staring into the dark open door of his old room. Worries filled her mind as she approached him.

"Dwight. Are you okay?"

"Do...do you mind if I...use the...night light in the bathroom?"

The question that he asked confused her for her son had never been afraid of the dark before. She mustn't had said anything for awhile because he followed up with an explanation.

"I just...can't be in the dark." He shuffled his bear feet on the floor embarrassment evident on his face even though he was trying to hide it.

"Oh yes it's completely fine."

Running into the bathroom she grabbed the light from the wall, making note of his old clothes, and returned holding the object out to him. He gingerly took the light whispering a 'thank you' as he did so. Turning on the light to his room he began to walk in but paused as he heard his mother's words.

"I love you."

Shuffling towards his mom he reached out and gave her a hug.

"I love you, too"

With that Dwight returned to his room but didn't turn off his light till he heard the click of his parent's door. Collapsing on the bed he took off his glasses and gave a heavy sigh. Rubbing his face he relaxed into the bed. Tonight's whole ordeal was more exhausting than he thought. At least he didn't have to wallow in complete darkness or be alone. Dwight began to close his eyes to the gentle glow of the night light.

He was free. He was home at last. 


	3. Better Informed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for the long wait. I had like a third of it typed and then had a writers block. We had just moved and I wasn't able to access my Dead by Daylight anymore so my enthusiasm kinda died off. I now have a renewed interest and some great ideas for this story. I don't know how frequently I'll be posting but once I have a good chunk typed I'll post that.

The Fairfields rose in the late hours of the morning (bordering on noon), except for Dwight who could be heard snoring from behind the spare room's door. Tension was high as the middle aged couple settled down at their kitchen table to start a hardy breakfast. Both had decided to call in sick to work in order to think on the gnawing subject that was Dwight's return. The emotional stress was killing them both.

"Wow. That boy has been sleeping for over 11 hours." Giving a long whistle he looked up at the ceiling.

"A little reminder that he probably hasn't even seen a bed in 2 years let alone slept on one." The cold claws of stress could be heard leaking into her voice. "Which brings us to our topic: What do we do?! We have to tell the cops about this! They know more about any of this than us." She only ended her rambling when she crammed a spoonful of Cherios into her mouth.

"Alright you get right on that and I'll...just..." Keith began to slowly slink away but halted at the harsh tone of his wife.

"No, Keith. You are staying right here while I call. Just because you aren't that close to him doesn't mean you can just abandon him in his time of need!"

"I wasn't abandoning him, I was just-" His words fell short as he realized that his wife wasn't paying attention to him or his excuses anymore but instead wolfed down the last of her cereal.

Chucking her bowl in the sink she sprinted out of the room returning to her seat with a wireless phone.

"Here we go." Swallowing her fear she dialled the number to the police station and tediously waited.

The receptionist picked up at the third ring.

"Ransslin Police Department."

"Hello, yes, I'd like to speak to Chief Wilcott about the Fairfield case."

An annoyance laced sigh was heard from the other side of the line. "Good morning, Sherry. For the last time, no I cannot do that. The department is trying their best but the case has run cold."

"No! No! Kate you don't understand!" Panic filled her as worries about being ignored filled her weary mind.

"The Chief has asked me to turn any more of your calls away. I'm sorry but you hold up the line." Some shuffling could be heard on the other side. "Good bye, Mrs. Fairfield."

"He's here!"

The abrupt yell stopped the secretary in her tracks. "E-excuse me?"

"He's alive, Kate. Dwight's upstairs right now. Now please patch me through to Chief Wilcott."

Without another word she did as Sherry asked and the Chief picked up the phone.

"Chief Wilcott speaking." His authoritive voice leaked through the landline and into her ear.

"Chief, we need to talk about Dwight Fairfield."

An angered grunt left the man's lips. "I thought I told Grant to stop sending your calls to me."

"Adam!...He's alive."

"Whu...he can't be..." Dumbstruck the chief was at a loss for words.

"He is. He's upstairs right now and I need help." She spit the last part out through her teeth trying to ignore the fact that the police weren't much help in the first place. After a year of tedious investigations which resulted in absolutely no leads the case was halted only to be buried among unsolvable and unimportant cases, being summed up as deceased. Her anger over their incompetence was still tugging at her mind which she had to gruelling put aside due to their experience in the concerned field.

"I'm-I'm sorry. The Boys and I will be right over." With that the call was ended leaving Sherry gripping the phone tightly.

'The Boys'-as Chief Wilcott lovingly called them- was the small investigation group that where placed at the rinky-dink station, very rarely having any work sent their way due to the size of the town. The group consisted of 5 people: Jones, McGaffery, Boyle, Jeffries, and Coulton; surprisingly all males. Being not only the oldest at the age of 52 but the leading investigator as well, McGaffery was a short man who tended to be too lax when it came to his work hours. He figured that since not much happened in Ransslin it gave him the privilege to play hooky and spend his day at the local bar until called upon. Sherry despised the man.

Arriving only a mere 15 minutes later the Fairfields opened their door to the stubbled face of Wilcott and his merry men grouped behind him. His light brown hair was neatly-albeit rushed-gelled to the side just missing the mole that was placed on his forehead.

"Mornin' folks. Is he..." He gestured toward the inside of the house seemingly finishing his question.

"He's upstairs." Keith solemnly replied, which was followed up by Sherry's pressing voice.

"Sleeping. He needs it." Her gaze passed by Wilcott landing on the old investigator behind him. McGaffery returned her stare with a slight nod of his head and a smug smile. Ignoring the gesture she got down to business, why they were here in the first place.

"Do come in."

The party flooded into the family room, McGaffery taking the first seat on the couch right where Dwight sat earlier. Sherry's eye twitched at the brute as the rest of 'The Boys' covered the entirety of the seat leaving the Fairfields and Chief Wilcott to stand. Serious conversations are better taken standing anyway, adds a flare of drama. The chief was the first to speak.

"So...how exactly did this happen." He retrieved a toothpick from his pocket and placed it between his awaiting teeth. Being an ex smoker the man never got rid of his habit of constantly chewing on the ends of his cigarettes making the wooden sticks a necessary substitute as to not fall back on bad habits.

"We found him on the porch at around 10:40 pm dressed in...in the same clothes that he was reported missing in." Mrs. Fairfield glanced to the couch where she spotted McGaffery taking out a note pad and pen, about to record the discussion. "He was covered in blood and dirt. I have no idea if it was his or somebody else's but...it just...broke me." She stifled a quiet sob as she relived one of the the most heartbreaking scenes in her life, second to being told by the department that his son was 'dead'.

"Do you still have the clothes?" Wilcott warily prodded the subject further already slightly off put.

"Yeah...yeah, they're upstairs in the bathroom. I couldn't bring myself to move them after he changed."

"Alright. Jones, grab those later for testing will ya?" Less of a question and more of a command, the man addressed gave a nod and continued to listen in on their conversation.

"Anything else?"

"We really didn't want to push him. He was really cautious and jumpy and avoided eye contact with us as much as possible." Saying these words seemed to physically hurt her in a way.

"We thought it would be best to let him relax and then answer questions today." Keith finally added his two cents to the discussion making Sherry a tad bit happier.

"Hmmmm." Wilcott's tone was unsettling to say the least. He stared at the floor as he contemplated his next few words. "Based on the information that you've provided-now I'm not saying for certain cuz there's still tests to run-but based on his reaction he may have been a victim of...sexual assault."

His opinion was accompanied by a lowed pained gasp from Sherry in which he attempted to explain himself further.

"Now we won't know for sure until we find some evidence or he actually tells us but it could possibly be what I said. Victims tend to be very paranoid and embarrassed due to it and even go as far as blaming themselves for the incident which we all know was not their fault. I'm not telling you this to cause you pain or rile you up, I'm telling you this to prepare yourselves and not push him too hard. It's for his benefit."

"Alright." Sherry nervous hummed out as she leaned her body into Keith's side.

"Jones! I want you to go out and fetch the large evidence bag and some latex gloves for the-"

The chief's voice was cut off by a loud panicked screeching echoing down from the top floor. Not even a second passed by when Mrs. Fairfield took off out of the room and up the stairs yelling her son's name, the rest of the group not far behind. Flinging the door opened she rushed in to see him tangled in the bed sheets flailing aimlessly with his eyes still closed. His body was drenched in sweat as he convulsed in harsh jerks of his limbs. His screams had only gotten louder when she opened the door to it's source.

"Dwight!"

Sherry flung herself on the bed trying to wake him up by shouting his name and grabbing his shoulders but he kept wiggling out and proceeding to claw at his left shoulder. The guests eventually arrived at the room with Keith at the head accompanying his wife at Dwight's bedside. The police department was still shock to actually see the young man after being reported missing for so long.

"He won't stop! He won't wake up!" Her panicked cries mixed with Dwight's harsh loud ones making her almost inaudible.

With determination in his eyes Mr. Fairfield crawled onto the bed and sat on top of his son's legs, holding him down and preventing him from slithering away. This increased the young man's panic even more as he attacked his left shoulder with a new found viciousness. Getting an iron grasp he gripped Dwight's shoulders and gave a hard quick shake.

"DWIGHT!"

Keith's yell topped that of even Dwight's as he awoke after one final startling screech, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes. His body shook as he stared his wide eyes at the even more frightening creature before him, his father. He shook in his grasp tears slowly trickling down his face yet he refused to move until he gave a harsh jerk when his father hugged him. Surprised and a bit scared at first Dwight slowly relaxed into his parent's arms closing his eyes once more, revealing in the warmth compared to the cold nightmare he was having. His mother sat next to him running her hands through his damp hair of which he nudged his head into the touch. She always knew how to go that extra mile to make him feel better.

During the commotion the investigative group, excluding Chief Wilcott, had retrieved the evidence bag and gloves and made their way to the bathroom to retrieve the 'tainted garments' as McGaffery referred to the clothes in question as. He wasn't into that feelings bull crap and left as soon as he saw that the issue was handled.

Unlike his underling, Wilcott had respect for the feelings of the families of victims and felt slightly uncomfortable being in the room during such a personal family moment but he had a job to do.

Keith let go of his son and shifted down the bed to let Sherry squeeze in beside them. Placing her hand gently on his leg she looked into his embarrassed puffy eyes and asked the curious question that stuck in her mind.

"Honey...can you let me look at your shoulder?" Her hand slowly raised up intended to lightly hold his shoulder but was rejected when he scooted away. After coughing a little harshly he stuttered his reply.

"I...uh...would greatly appreciate if...you didn't." Dwight once again avoided contact by staring at the tan carpet of the room.

"Dwight please-"

"Son, it would benefit us all, even you, if you did as your mother told you." Wilcott interjected Sherry's frivolous pleas. She was doing a wonderful job but the boy needed some authority if he was going to straighten himself out.

Dwight's head shot up and made direct eye contact with the Chief. He froze in place. There was a cop?! When did he get there? Was he always there? He really didn't want to deal with the truth let alone the cops. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he just crawl away and die? Stupid survival instincts.

With a nearly inaudible whimper Dwight turned back to his mother and gave a slight nod. With delicate precision he slowly pulled the black logoed tee over his head and held it in his lap. He stared at the shirt as he moved it around in his hands. His shoulder ached and he knew without a doubt that it looked worse than it did yesterday. He didn't have to see it, he could FEEL it. It throbbed sending waves of hurt throughout his body. Pushing the pain aside he realized that he felt vulnerable and weak as well as humiliated. He hated himself; such an utter pile of garbage.

Sherry took in her son's body before her. Though not as bad as the many injuries on his arms, his chest still had quite a few but what drew her attention the most was the large red and purple bruised scar just below his left collar bone. She gaped at the large wound surprise and worry etched into her features as she hovered her hand over it. Dwight didn't even flinch; he knew she wouldn't touch it.

"Oh, my baby!" Avoiding the injury she grabbed her son and wept on his shoulder. Keith just stood at a distance with an air of concern while Wilcott was growing evermore uncomfortable.

"How did-"

"Mom." He looked her directly in the eyes and she could see the horrible pain that was hidden behind those brown eyes. "Please...I-I can't talk about it." He squeaked out, feeling a lot smaller than he actually was.

"It's fine. It's completely fine." With a sniffle she nudged his shirt with her hand. "Go ahead. You can put it back on."

While blinded by the tedious process of putting his shirt on Mrs. Fairfield gave a sad glance to Chief Wilcott who gave a sorrowful nod. Re-clothed he began to fiddle with his thumbs trying to block out both his dream and the unpleasant event.

"Dwight. How about you ready yourself then come down for lunch. I have a few questions that I'd like to ask you." The young man gave Wilcott a tired hum keeping his attention focused on his hands.

The chief turned and exited the room followed by Mr. Fairfield who kept sparing glances at his son as he walked out into the hall. Mrs. Fairfield wasn't long after but not before she kissed her son's forehead and whispered an 'I love you'.

Once alone Dwight took a few minutes to collect himself and then started to cry. 


	4. Is This An Interrogation?

Dwight sat quietly at the kitchen table opposite of Chief Wilcott staring at the white trim on the wall to his right. His right leg nervously bounced up and down, jiggling the table slightly though the chief didn't mind.

Leaning back in his chair with his arms loosely crossed he took in the young man before him. His hair was disheveled and sweat still clung to his forehead from that morning's scuffle. His theory seemed to ring true as the boy still refused to look at him but continued along with the nervous tick. Fidgeting like that can be a form of anxiety or stress being released.

"Here you go, Honey."

Mrs. Fairfield entered the scene and placed a grilled cheese sandwich followed by a cup of orange juice in front of Dwight, drawing is attention. When was the last time he ate?

"Adam, would you like a cup of coffee?"

Wilcott raised his head with a look of curiosity plastered on his face. "If it would be no trouble."

"Oh no trouble at all. I already have a pot ready."

After Sherry turned around to retrieve a mug from the cupboard his gaze returned to Dwight who's eyes were locked on the sandwich. A look of contemplation grazed his features as he appeared to be deciding whether or not he should eat it.

In a caring tone Wilcott answered his imaginary question. "Hey. You can eat, boy."

With a muttered 'm'kay' he grabbed the grilled cheese and began to gnaw at it, seemingly relaxing as he did so. Each bite he took was savoured; he hadn't had food in forever let alone grilled cheese.

The clink of the ceramic cup on the table drew Wilcott's attention away from Dwight and back to Sherry. He thanked her with a warm smile and she made to exit the kitchen looking back before she crossed the threshold.

"We'll be in the family room if you need anything."

Chief Wilcott gave a nod, though the statement was more directed towards Dwight, as she disappeared around the corner.

Letting out a sigh he picked up his mug and took a sip of the rich liquid returning to his analysis of the young man. The Chief watched as his subject slowly picked up his orange juice and downed about half of it. Wilcott pondered his approach on how to go about questioning a possible sexual assault victim. Asking about the basics should be an okay place to start.

"Alright..." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small police notebook and a ballpoint pen. "When was the last time you saw your parents?"

Dwight channeled his attention into swirling his juice around in his cup. "Um my mom was...two and a half years ago and my dad...was three." He still refused to look at the older man.

Seemed like the boy's visitations to his parents dropped off about six months before he went missing; perhaps there was a clue in that.

"So for six months you didn't have any contact with your parents before...you were recorded as missing?"

Giving a heavy sigh Dwight placed his object of fixation on the table, "I-I was in a rough place and we weren't exactly having the best relationship at the time."

"Could you better describe your complications?"

The Chief's question was returned with a long moment of silence. It appeared he wasn't going to get an explanation. Licking his lips Wilcott attempted to move on when Dwight spoke up.

"Questioning life a-and the meaning of it...resulted in me lashing out and cutting off ties. I'm a loser...and there was no reason for me to exist."

"Was? Hope that means ya changed you're mind." He continued to jot down notes in his chicken scratch handwriting as the young man responded.

"Uh...yeah. Yeah."

Adam tossed him am unconvinced glare and muttered a 'You better have' under his breath. Shifting his weight in the wooden chair he proceeded in his questioning.

"With such a shaky relationship why did you decide to go to your parent's house last night? Why didn't you go to the police?"

For the first time during the whole conversation Dwight finally made eye contact, looking away immediately afterwards.

"Thought it would be the...safest place. I-I couldn't exactly go to my apartment, now could I."

"True."

The way that the young man attempted to add some comedy to his response was curious. He was avoiding something; trying to change the subject. If Wilcott wanted to get some answers he'd have to ask something more direct. Preparing for the worse he let out a shaky sigh. "Dwight, what happened those two years you were reported as missing?"

The man in question froze in place, the stress plainly visible on his features. He clenched his jaw under the intense stare of the police chief.

"I...I really don't want to talk about it." Pain could be heard in his reply.

A feeling of sympathy rushed through Chief Wilcott stirring up his emotions on the inside. This man had been gone for two years yet still managed to answer a fair chunk of his questions. He respected the amount of integrity that Dwight held. The notes he had were enough for now. Placing the small police issued notebook on the table he once again returned to drinking his coffee.

"It's okay, boy. This is enough for now. You can go."

Giving a hum of recognition Dwight placed his plate in the kitchen sink and left with his orange juice. Wilcott stood shortly after the young man left returning his pen and notebook to his pocket and leaving for the living room.

Dwight didn't really provide that much insight on his predicament other that the fact that he was suicidal. Being in such a mind state perhaps he believed that he was deserving of the accident which could result in him holding back information. Wilcott wouldn't be able to know for sure until the boy calmed down and hopefully provide some answers to his remaining questions.

Upon entering the living room the Chief was greeted with the worried faces of the two Fairfields.

"So, Adam, how did it go?"

Giving off a sigh Wilcott tried to formulate a response in his head while rubbing his chin. "He's showing signs of cooperation but refuses to talk about those two years. Perhaps with a bit more time we could get some more out of him. He also talked about before the accident when you apparently weren't having the best relationship."

Keith looked away from the officer ashamed while Sherry gave a concerned stare. "Yes about six months before he just...stopped taking to me. He tried to push me away as best as he could and I didn't know why. We had always been so close."

Wilcott gave a small frown. "Well, Mrs. Fairfield, apparently during this time your son was...suicidal."

Gasps from both parents filled the room as Keith directed his attention back to the Chief. Upset that his son would ever even dare to do such a thing Mr. Fairfield shot back an angered filled question.

"And did he say why he would do such a ridiculously stupid thing?"

Raising his voice slightly to challenge the fathers the Chief made a quick reply.

"Questioning his self worth." At those words Keith's back straightened and guilt plagued his face. "Ya know anything about that?"

"I-it wasn't my fault! Sure I didn't pay attention to him that much when he was younger and shamed him a bit but I didn't know it would turn him to suicide! I was just trying to toughen the boy up." He retorted, quick to defend his involvement.

"Mr. Fairfield, your son is awfully skittish around you. Perhaps that's why. Ya can't change the past so maybe ya could try and improve your relationship now." His suggestion was met with silence but he knew that the man understood. "I'd like for him to go see a psychiatrist. I know a great doctor who's dealt with cases like these. It'll help him work through the traumatic events and maybe even open up to us about what happened."

Mrs. Fairfield understandingly shook her head. "Yes. Definitely. Um...wh-what is there name?"

"It's-"

Wilcott was cut short as he noticed Dwight standing in the entryway. Giving a little cough he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. In a hushed tone he told her he'd give her the doctor's information later. All eyes on the room focused on Dwight as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Hey, Honey. What's up?" Sherry tried to hide her worry with a sweet smile on her lips, Dwight noticed this but didn't take heed.

"C-could...do you think..." Sentences were so hard to formulate when so many thoughts were running through someone's head. "Could we go to the mall...for some clothes?"

Dwight knew that he was going to immediately regret asking when he got there and met the stares of other people but he just had to get his mind off of all this. It was just so emotionally draining and a break from it all was greatly needed. Also he would prefer not having to wear the same articles of clothes day after day.

A genuine smile graced his mother's lips even though his request took everyone in the room by surprise. "Oh! Sure thing. I'll just go grab my purse."


	5. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I started writing this right after the last chapter but then i hit a huge writers block and had no idea how to write this chapter. Whatever. Its done. I can continue writing the story now. Sorry its short as well.

The stares. He could feel their stares boring through him and into his very damaged soul. Staring at the ground did little to quiet the whispers of pity and amazement that slipped from the crowds' gossiping lips. The only thing guiding him through his journey of hell were the heels of his mother's short leather boots that stepped in and out of his vision. Why couldn't that THING just have let him die and end his suffering early. His self confidence was absolutely shattered after the long drag through the mud with his parents and now this. He felt like an animal...a monster...a freak to be pointed at and marvelled from behind cage bars. The first to disappear and the only to return. Oh how he wished he hadn't. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Sherry turned around abruptly. Using all his might he managed to narrowly miss colliding with her. 

"So, Dwight, do you you have any particular place in mind?"

"A-any place." He quickly responded. 

"Are you sure?" She pressed her question a little harder. 

"Yes! Please!" He pleaded quietly. "Let's just go into a store."

With a worried furrow of her brow she headed into the nearest clothing store, Dwight hurrying alone in his dad's flip flops behind her. The prying eyes of the mall visitors lost interest in the young man and continued along with their shopping journeys. 

The store looked like that of a typical clothing store with female attire on the left and male on the right. In the far back of the store was the checkout counter with a single female employee behind the desk. She quickly glanced up from her phone but returned to the device right after. 

"Welcome." The greeting was halfhearted and Sherry gave a silent sigh at the actions of the youth of today. 

Starting for the men's section she waved her son over and began to view the various articles of clothing displayed on the racks. Different kinds of tops lined the metal bar ranging from knit sweaters to dress shirts, which Sherry was pretty sure should be in a higher quality section as to not get wrinkles. Both mellow and bright colours were mixed together as if they were just cramped on the pole at random, not even grouped with similar shirts. This store should be ashamed of it's employees. 

Dwight tried to push through the clothing racks as quickly as possible picking out some hoodies and t-shirts that caught his eye while his mother meticulously picked out a couple of woollen sweaters. After her son nodded at the shirts she selected they moved onto the pants which were organized on a circular rack a little ways away from the shirts. 

At this point the female employee had grown bored of looking at her phone and looked up at her only two customers. The woman seemed pretty normal but the disheveled young man beside her...Oh, where had she seen him from? After about a minute of squinting it hit her like a pile of bricks. 

Sherry approached the counter with Dwight in tow and placed a fairly large sized pile of clothing on the table. With a roll of her eyes the employee began to scan each item, one by one. The price flashed on the register, "Cash or credit?".

"Credit, please." Sherry tried to maintain a civil tone with the disrespectful cashier. 

Just as she was swiping her card the employee asked the most shocking question directed towards Dwight. "Hey, aren't you that guy who disappeared two years ago?"

He froze. What was he supposed to say? He didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't even thinking about everyone else who would've heard about his disappearance when he asked to go to the mall. 

Dwight began to slowly inch away from the counter remaining perfectly silent. His mother picked up the bag of clothes and gave a loud huff. 

"Thank you." She snapped sarcastically and hurried out of the store with her son. 

While they stormed out the employee pulled the camera up on her phone and took a quick pic of the man in question. With a smile she began to type. 

"I can't wait to post this. It's going to get me so many followers." 

~

The two hurried to the car parked in the farthest corner of the mall parking lot. Sitting down in the silence of the vehicle Sherry spoke first. 

"I'm so sorry, Dwight. Come here." Pulling her son into a comforting hug he submitted. Her warmth calmed him down a tad bit. 

"It's okay. I-I'm fine." 

An unnoticed tear slid down his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed let me know if I should continue. I'll probably write a few more chapters regardless but if not many are interested I'll probably drop it.


End file.
